


Ink

by TheSmudgyOne



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, Magical Tattoos, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 14:53:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2233092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSmudgyOne/pseuds/TheSmudgyOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam sees himself in Ronan's tattoo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ink

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Cabeswaterprompts on tumblr, for the "seven deadly sins" prompt Lust.

He should ask it. 

They are alone, and it's three AM, and the A/C is broken, and the fumes from this invisible ink concoction are probably getting him high. But he should ask it. 

He can see the whole expanse of Ronan's back. He's close enough to see individual beads of sweat. And beneath the sweat, the wicked ravens and wolf packs, strange trees and tangles of flowers, and things with long, sharp claws. And - 

Ronan must want him to ask it. Or he wouldn't have let him see. 

"Parrish, hand me another lemon?"

Adam blinks at him. He looks down at the table. He has temporarily forgotten what a lemon is. There is a bizarre array of junk on the desk. Dried herbs, kitchen knives, bottles of chemicals, small metal measurement tools of indeterminate purpose, a hairdryer, a magnifying glass, a candy thermometer, night-vision goggles, and a wooden cross. Also, at least half of this is buried beneath a layer of yellowing reference textbooks.

Adam, says, "Have you ever seen those Magic Eye puzzles?"

Ronan eyes him sidelong, the way Chainsaw eyes strangers. "Sure."

Adam begins to hunt for the lemon. He has to carefully peel the old books off the pile one by one, so he doesn't send everything clattering to the floor. He feels like an archaeologist. The room is too hot for archaeology.

After several sweltering minutes, Ronan says, "Why?"

"Nothing." Adam holds out a lemon.

"Nothing," Ronan repeats. He says it like _i dare you._ When Ronan takes the lemon, his fingertips close over Adam's for a brief, warm brush. Adam wishes they'd leave a mark - five wet streaks of ink from knuckle to fingertip, cataloging the contact. He stares at his hand a beat too long. When he looks up, Ronan is watching him watch his hand.

The door clangs open. 

"Hey! It's time! Is it ready?"

Gansey's loud, cheery entrance dissolved the weird energy. He bustles up and starts talking about rituals for revealing invisible ink on the old scroll of parchment they found in a cave. He waves around books and magnifying glasses. 

But the tattoo remains. In the center of Ronan's back, in between his shoulderblades (in the place where wings would protrude, if he had wings) there is something hidden to see. If Adam relaxes his eyes, lets them unfocus, then it is. Created out of the chaotic patterns of claws and flowers. A small, perfect, golden picture of a shirtless Adam, inked onto Ronan's back.

*

_Did I make it happen, or did he?_

A corner of the parchment is coated in lemon solution. Ronan turns on the hairdryer and holds it over the spot. Gansey stands beside Ronan, holding a giant flashlight. Ronan leans over his work. The muscles in his back and arms ripple in the light. Slivers of pale skin glow between rivers of ink. The tips of Adam's fingers tingle.

Adam has known so many types of hunger in his life. But never this. All he wants is to touch the tattoo. To know it isn't just some trick of magic, some mirror that reflects back his desires. To know Ronan made it happen. 

The fumes intensify as the hairdryer works, lemon and magic and chemicals and something like rubbing alcohol. It's an irrational mix. The room tilts. 

Here is what Adam's fume-sweetened brain sees:   
As Ronan works, blurry heat waves shimmer off his back like asphalt in august.   
As Ronan works, he keeps Adam in the corner of his eye.   
As Ronan works, watching Adam watch him, the tattoo moves. It's not just shifting under his muscles - the actual art is changing. A raven gets a longer beak. A wolf's body curves slightly. A wing folds a little, a flower grows thornier. And as a result of these shifts, the body between his shoulderblades becomes clearer. Bolder. Intensified. Until Adam can no longer see the wolf or the raven or the flower or the wing, only himself.

"Is that writing?" Gansey leans over. Slowly, ink begins to appear on the parchment, ripening into thick black lines. "No, it's a drawing!"

Adam's mouth goes dry. 

Ronan just keeps running the hairdryer, unable to see the tiny flower on the page from his vantage point. But Adam could tell him: it's identical to a design in the edge of Ronan's tattoo. A dark, wicked little rose covered in thorns. This particular one is from a spot on Ronan's shoulder that just peeks out from tank tops. 

"Done!" Gansey says. Ronan clicks off the hairdryer and moves it aside. He sees the rose. His jaw tenses. He frowns. His eyes dart to Gansey, checking for something. Gansey beams back at him.

"It works!" Gansey fumbles with his phone. "Okay, hang on, I'm going to take a picture and look go look this flower up online. Wait ten minutes before adding more solution, the page has to cool." He runs off, adding, "and don't do it before I'm back!"

Adam stares after Gansey. He didn't notice.

Does that mean he never noticed the rose? Or that he doesn't see the rose at all?

*

Ronan is adjusting the dial on the stove. A pot of water bubbles softly. Adam is dizzy. The heat presses in on him like a living thing. He leans on the table. He studies the rose on the paper. But then he looks up from the rose, and, Ronan's eyes are on him. 

"Well?" Ronan says.

His eyes wander over Adam's face. Invisible tattoos sear across Adam's skin. His forehead, his cheekbones, his lips.

"The tattoo," Adam says.

"You noticed."

The heat claws at Adam, his neck, his cheeks. He presses a palm into the cool table. "Does it look the same to everyone?"

Ronan cocks his head, a quizzical Chainsaw gesture. "Of course." He must sense that Adam is waiting, because he adds, "Looks the same to Gansey and Noah and me."

Adam holds very, very still. If he moves, he will start to hope. He barely breathes. "So why does it look the way it does now?"

Ronan shakes his head, just a little. "It's a dream object. That's how it works."

Adam frowns, confused. Ronan reaches around and rubs at the tattoo with his thumb, as though curious whether the ink will smudge. His bicep tenses and accentuates in the process. 

Adam wonders, faintly, if Ronan is doing that on purpose. 

He wonders what the skin would taste like. 

"This was a raven just yesterday," Ronan says, shaking his head, running his thumb along the wicked rose. "Day before, a night horror. And now, it's on some ancient scroll of parchment. Maybe tomorrow, we'll find a dead guy with the same art."

And it hits Adam like a punch. 

Ronan doesn't know. He thought Adam was just talking in general about the changing art. He doesn't know Adam is on there.

Ronan starts measuring out ingredients. Adam wishes for Ronan's eyes on him again. He has never in his life wished to be _seen,_ but now, he would have Ronan's eyes trace his skin and leave a mark of their every path, swirls of permanent ink. 

He glances at the clock. Just a couple minutes and Gansey will be back. He could wait them out. He could pretend nothing had happened. And maybe his face will vanish from the ever-changing tattoo forever.

"If that page is showing your tattoos, all of it, the way it is tonight...." Adam starts. 

"Yes?"

He licks his lips, steadies his breathing. Then he stares directly into Ronan's eyes and says, slowly and deliberately, "Nothing."

And then he walks off towards the door.

Just going to get some air, that's all.

Before he's out the door, he hears it. His whole body turns electric (he does not even know what he has managed to unlock, but he knows it is not _nothing_ ) at the delicious sound of Ronan beginning to swear.


End file.
